


The Best Valentine's Day Ever

by combefemme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combefemme/pseuds/combefemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't know what to get Stiles for Valentine's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Valentine's Day Ever

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt on tumblr: Derek doesn't know what to get Stiles for a Valentine's Day gift.

“What’re you getting Stiles for Valentine’s Day?”

Derek looks up from where he’d been reading the newspaper and eating breakfast to stare at Erica.

“Nothing,” he replies.

She sighs and drops down into the seat across from him. “You have to get him something.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day,” she says like he’s an idiot.

“I’m aware of that,” he says.

“So what are you getting for Stiles?”

“Nothing,” he says again.

“Why not?” she questions.

Derek drops his spoon into his bowl. Clearly, he’s not going to get to finish his cereal until it’s soggy. He leans back in his seat and levels Erica with a look that isn’t quite a glare. It’s a look that, a year ago, would have had her cowering. Now, she just stares back defiantly.

“Because he doesn’t need anything,” Derek answers.

Erica rolls her eyes. “Valentine’s Day isn’t about needs.”

Derek groans and scrubs a hand over his face. He knows that. If he’s being truthful, he’d been hoping to avoid this whole thing altogether. He and Stiles have only been dating a couple months. 

Holidays put way too much pressure on new relationships.

“Well, he doesn’t want anything, either,” Derek replies.

“Of course he wants something!” she exclaims.

Derek eyes her suspiciously. “What do you mean?” Suddenly he feels panicky. “Did he say something?”

Erica scoffs. “No, he didn’t say anything. Calm yourself. But it’s Valentine’s Day, Derek. Everyone wants something for Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t,” Derek responds.

“Yes, you do,” she says, matter of fact.

“No,” Derek says. “I don’t.”

“Yes,” Erica says, nodding her head. “You do.”

He just huffs a sigh and crosses his arms. It’s no use trying to argue with Erica. Derek knows from experience.

“C’mon, Derek,” she coos. “There has to be something you want out of Valentine’s Day.”

Derek rolls his eyes but can’t help thinking about it. A quiet night at home with Stiles — dinner, maybe a movie — sounds just about ideal. But as far as gifts go? He has no idea.

“What’re you getting Boyd?” he asks.

She smirks. “Me, in brand new lingerie. Something tells me that’s not the route you want to go, though.”

Derek cringes. “No, not quite.”

“Just think about it,” she says and stands. “It doesn’t have to be some grand display of affection. You don’t have to buy him a ring or anything. Just get him something.”

He watches her leave the room before sighing and burying his face in his hands. 

XxXx

Derek spends the rest of that day and most of the next worrying about what he’s going to get Stiles for Valentine’s Day.

They have a pack meeting the next day. Nothing supernatural has happened in months and ever since the rebuild of Derek’s house finished, there’s really nothing to talk about anymore. Pack meetings these days usually mean take-out, video games, and movies.

“So, am I going to see you tomorrow?” Stiles asks at the end of the night as he gets ready to go.

“Yeah,” Derek says, then falters. “I mean, if you want to.”

Stiles looks up from where he’s sitting on the stairs tying is shoes and smiles. “Well, yeah.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow night? I’ll kick Isaac out.”

Stiles smirks as he stands up. “I like the sound of that.”

He’s standing in front of Derek, trapping him against the wall, so close that Derek can feel the heat radiating off of him. Derek grabs him by his belt-loops and pulls him, pressing their mouths together. He can feel, rather than see, when Stiles grins.

After a moment Stiles leans back and when he looks at Derek, it’s with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh,” he says, tentative. “I got you something.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I hope that’s okay. I mean, I know we didn’t talk about it or anything but I figured it’s Valentine’s Day, y’know.”

“No,” Derek says, and nods his head. “I mean, yeah. It’s okay. I got you something, too.”

Stiles smiles. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Derek lies.

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek kisses him again before following him out onto the porch and watching as he drives away. Once he’s back inside he drops his head against the closed door.

Now he has no choice but to get Stiles something.

XxXx

That night Derek lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling, too anxious and worried to fall asleep. When he turns his head to check the time, instead of his alarm clock, his eyes light upon the shelves on the other side of his room.

And then the answer hits him.

It’s been staring him in the face the whole time.

XxXx

On Valentine’s Day, Derek spends way longer than he thinks he ever has getting ready. It’s stupid, he knows. It’s not like this is their first date. Stiles won’t care what he’s wearing. But he still feels like he needs to put in the effort.

And then he worries that he’s putting in too much effort.

What if Stiles just shows up in jeans and a hoodie?

In the end, he ends up in a pair of black jeans and a dark red dress shirt because that’s what he’s wearing when the doorbell rings.

When he gets to the top of the stairs Stiles has already let himself in and is toeing off his shoes. He’s dressed similarly, Derek notices with relief. Blue jeans, white dress shirt, and a black tie.

Derek eyes that tie and, yeah, he’s got plans for it later.

“Hey,” Stiles grins up at him as he makes his way down the stairs.

“Hey,” Derek replies, and eyes the gift bag in Stiles’ hand.

Stiles holds it out of reach. “Nope. Dinner first.”

“Alright,” Derek smirks and leads Stiles into the dining room. 

“You didn’t cook, did you?” he asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Derek laughs. “Do you think I wanted to ruin the evening?” he asks, heading into the kitchen to grab the take-out Chinese food that he left on the counter. He spoons it out into actual bowls — much fancier than styrofoam containers — and carries it into where Stiles has taken a seat at the table.

Stiles chatters all through dinner about school and lacrosse and college applications.

Derek tries not to show how apprehensive that makes him feel. The whole pack is in a frenzy of college applications and campus tours. He knows, objectively, that this is a good thing. They’re all smart kids with bright futures and college is an important rite of passage. They all deserve this.

But Derek can’t help but hate the idea of them all moving away, even if it is only temporary. What if they aren’t safe? What if the betas start having issues with control? What if they don’t want to come back?

Tonight isn’t the time to think about this, Derek tells himself. Tonight is about him and Stiles and nothing else matters.

After dinner the move into the living room under the guise of watching a movie, which is really just code for making out on the couch.

“So, do you want your present?” Stiles asks after fifteen minutes of not paying attention to Captain Jack Sparrow.

“Sure,” Derek says, sitting back.

Stiles pushes himself up and reaches over the back of the couch to where he left that gift bag earlier. He resituates himself on the couch, back against the armrest, and hands it to Derek.

“It’s not much,” he says.

Derek takes the bag from him and pulls the tissue paper out — white with little pink and red hearts all over it — and tosses it on the floor. He reaches into the bag and slides out a picture frame. But it’s not just one picture frame. There are about fifteen frames, all connected together to form a collage. The pictures were all of the pack — Stiles, Isaac, Scott and Jackson all in lacrosse uniform; Erica, Lydia, and Allison in bikinis and sunglasses on the beach; Derek and Isaac at the dining table, laughing over something Derek doesn’t remember; even a shot from just last week, a candid that Erica took of Stiles and Derek sitting on this very couch, looking at each other and smiling. And in the centre of it all, in the largest frame, was the picture of the whole pack that they’d taken at Christmas, all piled in front of the tree like a holiday card.

He looks up to see Stiles watching him nervously.

“The house has been finished for months,” Stiles explains. “But you don’t have any pictures. And a home needs pictures. So…”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just pushes himself up from the couch and moves towards the fireplace. Stiles’ heartbeat is loud in his ears when he places the collage in the middle of the mantle, deciding to nail it up later.

He turns back to Stiles. “Wait here.”

He goes up to his room and comes back a moment later with Stiles’ gift. Derek sits on the couch next to him and hands him the book, an old leather bound tome.

Stiles stares at the book, looking back and forth between it and Derek, before focusing in on it. 

“Derek,” he says softly, his finger playing over the charred edges and when he open the cover and sees the name written inside in neat script Derek hears his breath catch.

“My brother,” Derek says. “He was like you. Human. But, he could do things. My grandmother gave him that book. He wasn’t the first one in the family like that, but it had been a few generations.”

Derek stops talking. He’s not even sure what he’s saying anymore.

Stiles is staring at him in awe. “Derek, is this,” he pauses, licks his lips. “Is this all you have left…?”

“Yeah,” Derek nods. “Nothing else made it.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Derek says, looking him in the eye.

“Derek, this is your family,” Stiles says.

“You’re my family,” Derek says and then shakes his head because that didn’t come out the way he meant it. “I mean, you and —” he gestures to the pictures on the mantle “— the pack. You’re my family now. I’ve been trying to keep the two separate in my head for so long. My family and the pack. But… I don’t want to anymore.”

He looks over at Stiles just in time to catch him when he launches himself across the couch and crashes their mouths together. Derek’s glad he does it. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he kept talking, but he’s pretty sure they’re things you don’t say after only two months of dating; things it’s still too early to say.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” Stiles says, pulling away just enough to smile down at Derek. “Good luck topping this next year.”

Derek groans. “Let’s just enjoy this year.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr >> getyourhandofftheglass


End file.
